62221094 Essie Summers Autumn in April

8/3/2019 62221094 Essie Summers Autumn in April

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AUTUMN IN APRIL

Essie Summers


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They stared at each other in dismay

Rosamond recalled seeing this unknown man's disgusted face over

Gaspard MacQueen's shoulder when she'd kissed him good-bye in

England. Gaspard, who had loved and lost her grandmother years ago,

and who'd offered Rosamond the job here in New Zealand.

So this was Matthieu, the grandson Gaspard had assured her would

welcome and look after her until his return. Rosamond had arrived

with such high hopes, but now her heart sank.

For Matthieu was convinced that Rosamond was a gold digger, out tocapture his grandfather's money.


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For my daughter, Elizabeth, who shared with me in 1972 the delights

of the Isle of Wight, whence our forebears came, and for her husband,

Robert, who shares with her their New Zealand world of farm andlake.


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So many of my readers come to New Zealand as tourists and take

pleasure in visiting the spots I use as settings in my books that I feel

that I should mention that in this one, as in The Gold of Noon and The

Lake of the Kingfisher, I made Moana-Kotare an imaginary lake for

the purposes of the stories concerned. But it could be any of the

colourful lakes of Central Otago, and in my mind's eyes, and in yours,I hope, it lies with its shimmering blue-green waters somewherebetween Queenstown and Arrowtown.


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CHAPTER ONE

ROSAMOND knew this was the best fashion show she'd ever compered

for Dellabridges. This one was all hers. She'd been given a free rein

with the script. Not a word had been altered. When she'd started as an

advertising clerk with a much less enterprising firm, every flight offancy she'd embarked upon had been wing-clipped with faint praise or

killed with downright scorn. Originality had been frowned upon and

tradition had held primal place, but this firm had recognised from the

start her flair for the lilting phrase, the catchy slogan, her undoubted

gift for seeing a fashion as new as tomorrow and coining the

imaginative caption to make people, reading their newspapers, decidethis would be the day they'd go to town and shop.

Her first catalogue had been an instant success, and not a flash-in-the

pan either, as her second and third proved. Her greatest satisfaction

had come in composing the scripts for the fashion shows and if,

sometimes, she knew a pang of nostalgia for what in her earlier years

she'd dreamed of doing with her life, studying history and teaching andwriting about it, she didn't look back wistfully for long.

Her first job, prosaic though she'd found it, had provided financial

security during Father's long illness ... and now he was fighting fit

again with no trace of the crippling complaint and back in parish work,

but not in Britain, in New Zealand, enjoying with his characteristic

zest this second chance life had given him.

Rosamond had elected to stay in Southampton with this go-ahead

opportunity-giving firm. She loved Hampshire, and its names, so long

associated with beauty and history, had been woven by her into this

parade. Spring suits were New Forest Green or Pony Brown, trim

yachting outfits were Buckler's Hard, a delectable dress in wool so fine

it could have been georgette, pastel-tinted and edged with a strawlike

fringe, she'd called Cadnam Thatch; a blue-green creation with an

embroidered neckline and cuffs like the edge of a crenellated wall was


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Carisbrooke Castle, and the buyers from the Isle of Wight were

delighted with it. The Chawton evening gown was pure Jane Austen ...

the fashion show proceeded without a hitch that was visible, though no

doubt as always there would have been moments of panic in the

dressing-rooms.

It was amazing how even when one was intent on speaking lines

describing each creation, how aware one could be of individual

members of the audience. Some, of course, were from rival firms,

many were regular customers well known to her, but Rosamond had

been conscious from the outset of one man, well on in years. He was

interested in the parade, yes, and he looked every inch a member of the

fashion world, except for a very tanned skin, but time and again she

noticed that his eyes were more often on her face than on the models.

Why? She shut her mind quickly to that. She wanted no distractions in

this hour.

Beyond question Mr Dellabridge was delighted with the showing. He

escorted her personally afterwards, among the crowd. She would havebeen less than human had she not enjoyed the praise, reward for thelong hours of her own time spent on her script.

Finally her chief said, 'There's someone over here I've left till last

because he'd like a little time with you. He owns a firm like ours in

New Zealand. We met first in Paris years ago. He rang me last night,

and I mentioned that our compere for the show had parents living inDunedin. He's in the South Island too, but in Christ- church. He saidit's two hundred odd miles from there. Come along.'

His name was Gaspard MacQueen and he looked rather younger close

up, or perhaps it was just the tremendous vitality that seemed to stem

from him in broad shoulders, massive build and height, high

cheekbones. Certainly his sartorial elegance fitted in with his calling,

but except for that he could have been typed as a rugged Scots

Colonial. But Gaspard, as a name, was surely French, so perhaps in his


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choice of a career the French side had triumphed. Rosamond shook

herself free of such wandering thoughts, a habit of hers, and

concentrated on uttering things relevant to the world of fashion. MrDellabridge moved on to someone else.

This Gaspard MacQueen still had the intent look. He seemed to besearching her features. She had a feeling he'd not heard a word she'd

said.

His eyes dropped to the catalogue in her fingers. He tapped her byline:

Rosamond L. Briarley. 'Tell me,' he said brusquely, 'is it Rosamond

Louise?'

Her brown eyes widened. 'Why, yes, but how could you guess?'

'It wasn't a guess ... you couldn't be any other than Louise Rosamond's

granddaughter. Is she here watching your triumph? For triumph it

certainly is. You have all of Louise's gift with words.'

It almost took Rosamond's breath away. But she saw the link.

'Then you knew her in New Zealand? All those years ago?'

'I did. Very well. More than half a lifetime ago.'

A strange feeling smote Rosamond. From her rostrum she'd put him

down as tough, rock-hard, but something in his voice, pure nostalgia,

she thought, transformed him into something much more vulnerable

than rock.

He didn't break into explanatory speech. He seemed

single-purposedsparing of words too. 'Where is she? Far away?'

Rosamond said, 'Very far ... beyond ...'

He didn't apologise for breaking in. 'Not'


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She realised he'd thought she meant Gran was dead, beyond recall.

'Oh, not that. I was going to say: "Beyond these shores." They went to

Canada years ago. Grandfather took a professorial post there. Gran didpart-time lecturing too, still takes a few lectures at times.'

'In history and English?'

She nodded. He pursed his lips. 'Well, that would certainly be more

her line.'

Rosamond wanted to ask: Than what? But something kept her silent.

What an odd conversation to be having in the midst of this

fashion-conscious crowd. However, they were dispersing now. Shesaid, 'I must say goodbye to some of them, but I'd like to come back to

you. Would you wait?'

'I'll wait.' As she murmured trifles to those who had lingered, she was

conscious that he was waiting with all his might and main. When she

got back to him, her chief was with him again. 'Gaspard tells me he

knew your grandmother years ago in New Zealand. Pity she's in

Canada. She'll be very interested when you write to tell her. Was she in

drapery too, Gaspard?'

He shook his leonine head. 'No, she was rather more intellectual than

that. She was going to university and specialising.'

A line creased Rosamond's brow. 'But Gran's no blue-stocking snob,never has been. Neither is Grandfather.'

How odd ... she'd said is Grandfather, not was. Well, he'd been such a

darling, such a kindred spirit to his grandchildren, it was hard, even

now, to think of him in the past tense.

Mr Dellabridge said, 'How about coming to our place for an hour or

two tonight, Gaspard? And you, Rosamond? Sorry I can't ask you for


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dinner, but we're going to our son's for that. We'll be home by eight-

thirty, though. We're baby-sitting for them while they're at a cocktailparty.'

Gaspard MacQueen accepted with alacrity, then said, 'But perhaps

that'll rush you, Harry. Miss Briarley would you have dinner at myhotel instead, and we could chat after it? Or if that's too short a notice,

perhaps Monday night?'

'I'm sorry. Tomorrow's my last day at work before I go off on holiday.'

He seemed inordinately disappointed. Liked his own way, Rosamond

suspected ... a bulldozer. Then he smiled and it softened his facecompletely. 'Then that's my loss. I'd like to see as much of you as

possible. I must be glad, however, that I didn't miss you entirely. It was

like seeing the years roll up like a blind ... I could have imagined I was

watching Louise read. Can you make it to Harry's this evening? Good... I'll pick you up in a taxi if you tell me your address.'

She shook her head. 'I've a Mini, if you don't despise so tiny a car. Itlooks like rain, anyway, so taxis will be scarce. What hotel?'

Mr Dellabridge moved off and this strange New Zealander said toRosamond, 'Would you wear exactly what you're wearing now?'

Again she had that puzzling sense of vulnerability in this man. 'I can,but why? It's very plain. I always think the compere must be in asimple, severe style.'

He didn't look in the least embarrassed. 'Sheer sentiment. Your

grandmother suited cream. I took her to a Varsity Ball, and no one

could hold a candle to her. Sponge-cloth was all the rage. She wore a

spray of Seven Sister roses at one shoulder, and a Whitby jet necklacejust like you're wearing now.'


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Her hand came up to her throat. 'It's a genuine Whitby jet, not the

plastic beads that so often pass for it now. But not everyone recognisesthat.'

He nodded. 'One of my grandmothers came from Whitby. She was

brought out to New Zealand as a child in the early days. She left mesome of her jet.'

Rosamond was glad to be going out. It had been a frantically busy

month preparing for the show and she. would have felt very flat when

all was over. At times like this she still missed Jeffrey and wasannoyed that she did. Odd that he too had been a New Zealander. That

country at the bottom of the world seemed to crop up in her life. Not

that Gran had ever talked much about the country of her birth. Even

when she knew Jeffrey came from there she hadn't asked him much

about it. She'd been on holiday here in England during the time of

Rosamond's engagement but had found no common ground withJeffrey in spite of making a real effort to do so. When they had parted

Gran had been more bracing than sympathetic; she had said, 'You'll get

over it. One does. You may even live to thank your God that Jeffrey

wouldn't wait till you saw your father through this bad time. I'd say

good riddance. Weep a few tears over him, of course, it gets it out of

your system and makes you feel all romantic, but in five or six years

you'll hardly remember what he looked like, my girl.'

It was a very pleasant evening. Sybil Dellabridge was so delightfully

natural, much loved by her husband's staff, very understanding when

they talked shop flat out, and why shouldn't she be, she always said,when Harry had snatched her from behind the counter?

Inevitably, Harry wanted to know all Gaspard's plans for his business

and sightseeing trip. He'd been in Britain before but had never

managed to see all he wanted to.


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Rosamond said, 'What places have priority in your plans, Mr

MacQueen?'

He smiled, 'Well, Whitby, naturally, but first I want to see the Isle of

Wight. My mother came from there. I aim to hire a car and really

explore it. Last time I left it to the last and got called back to NewZealand before I could go.'

Rosamond didn't know what made her offer: 'Mr MacQueen, although

I leave for Yorkshire on Tuesday for most of my holiday, I'm spending

a long weekend on the Isle of Wight, taking my Mini across from

Lymington to Yarmouth, the route I like best. I know it all so well. It

belongs very specially to my favourite period of history ... the Stuartreign. But apart from that it's such a darling island, only twenty-two

miles by thirteen, but every acre sheer beauty. Would you like to come

with me? I'm just staying where the fancy takes me.'

The Dellabridges were delighted for Gaspard. Sybil said, 'It's like one

of the real-life coincidences you read about, Rosamond compering theshow and Gaspard turning up from thirteen thousand miles away and

seeing just a name and an initial on the catalogue. It's not as if she had

the same surname as her grandmother's maiden one.'

'She didn't need it,' said Gaspard. 'Louise. looked exactly like this. She

must have been younger, but she had the same nut-brown hair with

golden ends, the same velvety eyes, even the same clear-cut line ofchin ... it was almost uncanny. And Rosamond's not a very commonname.'

Rosamond said slowly, 'And of course your name is most uncommon.

It seems so strange that Gran never mentioned anyone of that name, I'd

have remembered it for sure. It's the French equivalent of Jasper, isn't

it? Does that mean your mother came from a line of French emigres,who fled to the Isle of Wight during the Revolution?'


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He nodded. 'Gaspard was their surname originally. It became a given

name in succeeding generations of the sons of daughters. My

grandsons have names that retain the French spelling too, Matthieu

and Pierre. Rosamond Louise, this will be a weekend to remember,

Louise's daughter taking me to see the scenes my own mother knew

and loved. She told us so many stories of the island when she wastucking us down. I want to walk down Shanklin Chine, and up again.

Can we manage that? I'll think about my mother as we do it. She talked

of thatched roofs in the old village there, and of artists painting the

church and cottages at Godshill ... we have one of Haslehust's prints at

home, of that ... and the multi-coloured sands of Alum Bay. We have

some in a jar on a mantelpiece.'

Rosamond was glad she'd made the offer. She liked the glimpse of the

sentimentalist behind that granite- looking exterior.

She had no idea till that weekend what a delight it was to showsomeone for the first time, especially someone from Down Under, the

glories of that small island so dear to her heart ... the curving bays and

headlands, the sheared-off white cliffs gleaming in the sun, the

rose-embowered cottages, the enchantment of the trees, the cuckoocalling.

As they went down the magically terraced stone steps of the Chine, socontoured by nature into symmetry and elegance, and shaded by such

a delicacy of leaf- tracery and shifting sunlight and shadow, she had

the feeling that it wasn't an old man who walked at her side, but an

eager child, who'd first seen the greys and blues and greens of the

Chine, that deep and entrancing cleft, through the eyes of his

imagination as his mother told her stories in the deepening twilight of

an Antipodean summer.


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In silence they sat on the shore, gazing into an infinity of sea and sky.

Then the old man said, 'You've guessed, of course, Rosamond, that I

loved Louise with every breath in my body. Loved and desired her

with body, soul and mind. It all seemed plain sailing. It was so right,

such a promise for a bright future for us both.'

She nodded. 'Yes, I sensed you must have loved her. What went

wrongs Mr MacQueen?'

'I allowed someone to make mischief. It seems incredible now, but I'd

always wondered that anyone so lovely and with such a mind could

have loved me. So my pride was hurt. I felt deeply disillusioned.

There's a hard streak in the MacQueensmy grandfather had it, myfather had it. It made them successful men. I didn't know I had it

tilltill that time. But it was there and it carried me through or I'd

have gone under out of sheer misery. ,

'Life goes on, of course. I married, had a son and a daughter. In

business I was well on the way to becoming a petty tyrant, toosuccessful by far. Work meant more to me than anything. It was a

challenge, a sort of pitting my wits against everything ... against the

end of the Great Depression, the war years, booms, and minor slumps.

Then one day the person who'd made the mischief confessed, and told

me the whole truth. At first a wave of bitterness for all that might have

been swamped me, mentally and physically. But not for long.

Knowing what I then knew gave me back Louise, gave me back myideals, my dreams, my untarnished memories of her. There was

nothing to be done, of course. I made enquiries, found she had married

well, was in her rightful sphere.

'It saved me from making other mistakes. I could have ruined my son's

life, could have forced him to follow me in business, instead he lives

his life as he wants to live it. He and his wife are in Canada just now,

and have served their country well through all the years. There have

been many compensations. My two grandsons are splendid fellows.


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One's in the business with me full-time, the other pitches in whenever

there's an emergency. I'm not as ruthless as once; I'm a better boss

God, I was hard! And now ... this has been a bonus, Rosamond

Louise.' He chuckled. 'Isn't it funny ... I'm getting the biggest kick of

all out of the fact that you, who could have been my own

granddaughter, in drapery, my own trade.

'Tell me, Rosamond, is Louise happy? I won't ask has she had an easy

life, for few lives are easy, and in any case, Louise was more likely to

make it easy for other people. For herself she'd want a challenge, want

to cope with something. Am I right, tell me? Did she face up to what

life offered, and find happiness in doing it? In her marriage? I wantthat for her, Rosamond.'

'That's exactly what she did, Mr MacQueenfaced life gallantly. I

don't think it asked too much of her, if so, we couldn't have guessed.

She's such fun, so ready always to see the funny side of things. Thebouts of giggles we've shared, Gran, my brother and myself.

And as for Granddad ' She paused, and again hardly knew why she

changed the tense she should have used. 'Granddad is all you'd have

wished him to be as a husband for your Louise. Bookish, yes, but

never too immersed to take time off for picnics, accompany her to the

orchestral concerts she so loves. He's always wondered what he's doneto deserve her.'

She looked up from her contemplation of the sea and saw that he was

moved, but not resentful, just happy. That night, at a hotel near

Freshwater, she tried to analyse why she hadn't told him Gran was a

widow. She came to the conclusion she had been instinctively

protective towards Louise who might not want these memories

revived. Louise who'd told her loved grandchild she might look back

in thankfulness that she'd not married her first love. Besides, Gaspard

might look on heras his first and true love, but who was to know how


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Louise looked upon him? There was that strange thing Gran had said

long ago. Strange because she so seldom talked of New Zealand.

They'd been reading Kipling's Sussex, where he had spoken of the

'one. spot beloved over all' and the young Rosamond had said, 'I know

the spot I love most in my world, Gran ... Shanklin Chine. You tookme there first on my tenth birthday. What's yours?'

Louise Briarley's velvety brown eyes had looked back in time. 'Mine is

a New Zealand lake with blue-green waters and snowy mountains

reflected in it, and Paradise ducks flying against the sky. A solitary

place, where no roads came or any traffic, only little boats across the

water, and the baaing of sheep upon a hundred hills.'

Rosamond had been startled at the longing in Louise's voice and had

been aware suddenly of her grandmother as a person, not just Dad'smother. She-said, 'Why did you ever leave it?'

Gran was never evasive or set back children's curiosity. She said

simply, 'I fell in love with someone I shouldn't have fallen in love with,

on a remote sheep station there. Perhaps I was more in love with the

setting, I don't know. But it wasn't to be, and I took up the Oxford

scholarship I'd won, and in time I met your grandfather, but for sheerbeauty, that's remained my one place beloved over all.'

So the love ofherlife couldn't have been Gaspard MacQueen, draper.For a moment regret touched Rosamond. How wonderful if this had

been the man Gran had loved and lost all those years ago. Then she,

Rosamond, might have played fairy godmother, given him Louise's

Canadian address, told him Louise was once more free. And that shewas still young at heart.

But it wouldn't be fair. It could raise hopes in this granity-vulnerableman who had unburdened himself to her. Let sleeping dogs lie,

.Rosamond. They've lived their lives. She was just getting carried


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away by the romance of it, and this odd feeling of utter kinship with a

man from half a world away, who just might have been her owngrandfather. A tantalising thought, no more. Forget it.

The next day she was further entranced to find Gaspard sensitively

responsive to not only the beauty surrounding Carisbrooke Castle but

to the pathos of Charles the First knowing imprisonment there. She

stood with him gazing out over the wall, sensing in him a need forsilence, as he slipped back three centuries.

Finally he said, 'On such a day as this he must have stood here, gazingsouth, willing the winds to be as fair for him when a ship would come

in, under cover of darkness to bear him to France ... and life. Yet it had

to be that other shameful way. When he left here it was for London and

death. And we, as a nation, committed that foulest of crimes ...regicide.'

A small cry escaped Rosamond. She tried to choke it back. That

intensely spoken 'we as a nation' really got her. Here was a man, born

in the Antipodes, still identifying himself, in shame, with that dark

page of history, centuries old. She wasn't able to check the tear that fell

and splashed on to the dusty golden stone of the parapet. Gaspard

looked-down on it, then quickly up at her, said, 'Why, lass, I didn't

mean to sadden you, grieving over "old, unhappy far-off things," asWordsworth puts it.'

Rosamond looked up at him with Louise's eyes, said, as she would

have done, 'It's not much to shed a tear for him. We should.'

All he said was: 'Aye.'

Presently she said, 'Gaspard,' and saw his eye kindle as she used his

name for the first time, 'I find it endearing that you've such a feeling


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for history. It makes it more of a pity than ever that you and my

grandmother didn't marry.'

He said slowly, 'It was because of her that I came to love history. I

knew we needed more interests in common if we were to have a good

life together. There were others in the field, more of her world. Butthen the mischief was made and I thought Louise hadn't given me long

enough to find common ground. However, it wasn't that at all. You

were so right, girl, when you said she wasn't an intellectual snob. But I

was touchy. But no matter now. I might have gone all my life

disillusioned about Louise. At least the mischief-maker gave me back

my belief in her.'

Rosamond said softly, 'And until now you've never been able to talk to

anyone about it, because you couldn't hurt your wife.' The

pansy-brown eyes met the brilliant blue ones. Rosamond added,

'Because, of course, the mischief-maker wouldn't have been cruelenough to have told your wife.'

The graven lines each side of his mouth deepened with an old pain. His

voice was toneless. 'Yes, she knew. She was the mischief-maker,

Rosamond, and confessed it.'

He saw the angle of her jaw tighten, her lips compress, then she drew

in a deep breath. 'I don't quite understand. Might it not have been better

if she'd never confessed? How did it come about?'

'Ellie had an accident, a very bad one. She thought she was going to die

and suddenly found she couldn't with that on her conscience. So she

told me, begged my forgiveness.'

'And you forgave her,' said Rosamond softly.

'Aye. She was a good soul, apart from that one cruel lie. She did love

me, according to her lights, but possessively. I've never voiced a


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criticism of her to anyone before, Rosamond, but to me, you're

someone special, almost as if you were Louise's and mine. She was

ambitious too, and certainly helped me make a success of the business.

She was a good mother to our son ... she "looked well to the ways of

her household and ate not the bread of idleness" as the Scripture has it,

but ... but she wouldn't have shed a tear for a beheaded king of threecenturies ago. We were moderately happy, even after that. What am I

saying? We were happier after it, oddly enough, because I lost my

bitterness and ruthlessness in business. Meeting you like this, girl, has

turned the clock back, and as I've said, I'm no end chuffed to find that

despite the academic barrier I falsely believed separated us, Louise's

granddaughter is in my own sphere. As if you're the child of my spirit,if not of my flesh.'

She didn't tell him that she too had had academic leanings, but had had

to abandon that training when her father was so ill because she needed

to earn money immediately. It might take from him this simple joy offinding her in shop life.

They crossed to Lymington again, and took a leisurely way home

through the New Forest. They picnicked for lunch in a leafy glade.

Rosamond sat back against the bole of a beech tree. She wore the

Whitby jet necklace over her fine cream wool sweater. Gaspard's eyes

were on it. 'Did your grandmother give you that?'

'Why, yes. Gran believes in sharing out her treasures in her lifetime.

She gave some of her jewellery to my Canadian cousins too. Dad'sbrother lives near her.'

'Treasures, did you say? Did she tell you the story behind that one?'

'Not exactly.'


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She could hear her grandmother's voice now. 'So you fancy that,

young Rosamond? I think I like a girl of your generation to have afeeling for old-fashioned things.'

Rosamond had said quickly, 'I won't take it if it's something you're

sentimental about.'

Louise had laughed. 'Not this. It may have meant something once but

not now. It was just from someone I met briefly on holiday and fanciedfor a few weeks. Incredible! But it's yours.'

Gaspard saw the reflective look in her eyes. 'What did she say,

Rosamond?'

She countered quickly, 'Why, did you give it to her?'

'I did. She didn't want to take it because she knew it had belonged to

my grandmother. But I was beating the gun and wanted her to have it

there and then and wouldn't take it back when we parted. Even though

I thought then that she despised me, I still wanted her to have

something tangible to remember me by. I thought she looked on me as

a clodhopper, out of her world.'

For a moment Rosamond hated Ellie, his wife, who had made the

mischief because she wanted him herself. How could any woman do

such a thing to a young man . . . make him feel his beloved thought hewasn't polished enough for her? No, she wouldn't tell him what Gran

had said. To Gran he must have been just one of her admirers . . . not

that one-and-only who had lived by the shores of an inaccessible lake.

-She said lightly, 'Gran just said if I fancied it I was to have it now, that

she herself had first worn it when she was my age. She gave it to me

for my twenty-first, Gaspard.'


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They had dinner at his hotel. Just before the sweets were brought he

excused himself and went away up to his room. When he came down

he had a box in his hand. He put it on the table, opened it, said, as he

showed her a jet bracelet lying on yellowed satin, 'It matches the

necklace. I would like you to have it. It would seem very fitting and

would please me no end if you'd accept it, Rosamond. I'd like thempaired up, would you?'

She hesitated, then seeing the real entreaty in his eyes, and guessing he

was re-living a dream because she was so like his lost Louise, sheconsented.

He said, looking embarrassed for a moment, 'I had a crazy feeling Imight be able to look Louise up on this visit, and that I might find I

could give it to her. But this will do instead, and when she sees the two

together, she might be quite happy to know we'd met.' He cleared his

throat. 'Tell me about your father's Dunedin parish. How he likes it,how he likes New Zealand life in general. How your mother likes it.'

'They love it so much they're thinking of settling there permanently, if

I join them. I've not quite decided. I've a very good job here and I

doubt if Dunedin would have anything comparable. Auckland might,

but it's at the top of the other island, and it's pretty costly to visit the FarSouth often from there, I'm told.'

Gaspard looked at her seriously. 'Christchurch is a large city.MacQueen's is the biggest and the best in department stores there. Our

fashion department is fabulous. We could do with someone of your

experience and ability ... your flair with words. How about it? Come

across and duplicate for us your show here. Only not a springtimeparade, an autumn one.'

She blinked. 'Autumn? Oh ... I see.'


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He chuckled. 'Autumn is in April in the southern hemisphere, dear

child.'

Not only the seasons were turning upside down for Rosamond. This

man was taking her breath away. He saw her indecision, pressed his

advantage. 'Think it over during the night. I'll ring you before youleave for Yorkshire. Give me your answer then. Think how glad your

parents would be. Dellabridge wouldn't be surprised. He said to me he

was sure you'd go out to them eventually. Think ... you'd be only six

hours away by main road from your people ... you can have a staff car

any weekend you like. It's just forty-five minutes by jet plane. You're

going to be away two weeks ... add a month to that, and that would

give Dellabridge's six weeks' notice. You could just take off fromHeathrow.'

She said breathlessly, 'I'll have to think about it. II wonder if Mr

Dellabridge would just give me six months' leave ... then I wouldn't

have burned my bridges behind me. If I didn't like it, I could come

back.'

'Fair enough. Don't believe in rushing people.'

She burst out laughing. 'You don't ... Oh, you old fraud! You're just abulldozer!'

He grinned back. 'My grandson, Matthieu, would be just delighted tohave someone take over the advertising. Pierre, now, has a flair for it,

but he's in the States for an indefinite period. His wife is having

treatment there. But Matthieu would see you nicely settled in.'

She looked apprehensive. 'You mean if I went in six weeks' time you

wouldn't be there?'

'No, I've a yen to see Russia this time and I've business in Paris and in

Czecho-Slovakia. We have a big department for crystal and glassware,


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and deal in that country quite considerably. But Matthieu would have a

flat ready for you. I could phone him from here. If Pierre hadn't been

away, he might have accompanied me. They tried to tell me I wasgetting a bit old for solo travel!'

Rosamond made up her mind. 'I'll go. No need to ring me in themorning. Oh, how thrilled and excited my parents will be! I'll cable

them from Yorkshire. I'll see you in three months' time, then, at the

other side of the world.'

Her car was parked near the hotel. He walked to the outer lobby with

her. Rosamond had the strangest feeling of unreality. They stood

beside a tinkling fountain screened with potted plants. A tinywrought-iron staircase led up from here. She had the oddest feeling of

reluctance to say goodbye, even for three months, to this man who'd

been a stranger to her till last Thursday afternoon.

Seemingly he had, also. He put out his hands, took her elbows, drew

her a little nearer him. 'Goodbye for now, dearest of girls, and take careof yourself on the roads. Thank you for one of the happiest, most

memorable weekends of my whole life.' He smiled, and once more his

face was wholly softened. 'You have renewed my youth for me.

Goodnight, darling.'

There was only one thing to do. She reached up, took his face between

her young, cool fingers, stood on tiptoe and kissed him full on the lips.She knew he wasn't seeing her, holding her, he was seeing Louise,holding Louise, as she had been half a century ago.

As she stepped back, a movement on the landing above caught her eye.

She looked up directly into the face of a man who was wearing the

most hostile and disgusted expression she'd ever seen on any stranger's

face. Instinctively she recoiled, but recovered instantly, said lightly,'Goodnight, Gaspard,' and was gone.


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Nevertheless, as she drove, she was aware that that brief encounter had

tarnished for her the memory of a unique weekend. She'd touched

hands with a romance of yesterday, found in an old man a kinship of

spirit in appreciation of long-loved island scenes and ancient history,

and she hated the fact that someone, even an unknown someone, had

thought what that man was thinking.

By the time she'd had a hot bath, had brewed herself some tea, and

settled in bed with a whodunnit, she suddenly saw the funny side of it.

Perhaps it was rather fine, after all, to meet up with someone who

didn't like this permissive age, and who had scowlingly disapproved of

a girl in her twenties renewing a man's youth! How ambiguous speech

could be. She was glad Gaspard hadn't seen that look, had no idea

they'd been overheard. It just didn't, couldn't matter. She was going to

a new life, she would never see that man again.

Six weeks later the jet Rosamond had transferred into from Aucklandwas dropping out of the sky at Christ- church. She had loved every

moment of the long flight from London, because Gaspard, away from

Southampton when she returned from her holiday, had left every detail

meticulously in hand. It had given her three days in Los Angeles, to

give her a rest, he had said in his note, and three in Honolulu. She had

reached Auckland in a dawn that seemed different from any other

because this was the land on which the sun rose first, a brand-new dayfor the entire world. This seemed symbolic to her.

She had gone through Customs in Auckland, so now, here in

Christchurch, she would be meeting Gaspard's grandson in just a

matter of minutes. Gaspard's letter had also said that the showroom

buyer would be giving her dinner at her home for her first evening, in

company with Matthieu MacQueen, and then, as no doubt they'd havea fiat for her by then, they would settle her in.


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She came through the big doors to hear the loudspeaker system calling

her. 'Paging Miss Rosamond Briarley from the U.K. Please call at the

International Information Counter, where Mr Matthieu MacQueen iswaiting.'

She stopped, asked where this could be found, moved on confidently.She saw an elderly man who couldn't possibly be anyone's grandson,

and two women who'd just stopped to speak to a much younger man at

the counter. Rosamond caught the tail-end of their conversation, not

much more than a greeting, evidently. '... .Nice to have seen you again,hadn't realised you were home againgoodbye, Matthieu.'

So this was certainly him. She came up to the side of him smiling. Shedidn't have to say, 'Are you Mr MacQueen?' she had her hand half out

when he turned. The next moment they were staring at each other with

dismayed incredulity.

In fact, on Rosamond's side it was sheer horror. This was the man who

had looked down on her from that landing in Gaspard MacQueen'shotel, with such condemnation and loathing.

No wonder ... he'd put the worst possible construction on his

grandfather's ambiguous words and had witnessed what must havelooked like a lover-like farewell.

Now ... 'My God ... You? he exclaimed.

Rosamond knew she looked the picture of guilt.


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CHAPTER TWO

THE hideous moment held Rosamond in a speechless grip. Her mouth

had gone dry, she felt she couldn't cope with words till this burning

colour had subsided from her cheeks, her throat. It began to ebb and a

real weakness succeeded it. With a terrific effort she managed tomaster that, but still speech would not come. What did one, could one

say to explain the ambiguity of those words this man's grandfather had

uttered and which, between her and Gaspard, had been something to

treasure in memory?

Matthieu MacQueen's voice held a sarcastic note which rasped like a

steel file along the edge of Rosamond's nerves. 'I can see this is a badmoment for you, Miss Briarley. Naturally you didn't dream you'd ever

meet again the man who overheard that extremely illuminating

conversation between you and my grandfather! Neither did I imagine

that the dress show compere he raved about was no less than the

renewer of his youth on an Isle of Wight weekend. How very

unfortunate for you, and how extremely wily of the old man. Oh well,no fool like an old fool, I suppose. And perhaps I should be glad mygrandmother is beyond being hurt ... this time.'

That did it... this time. Rosamond came to life. The brown eyes,

velvety no longer, flashed. 'I've no idea what you mean by this time. If

your grandfather happens to be a philanderer, I can't help it, though I'd

find it hard to believe. Has no one ever told you that conversationsoverheard with no idea whatever of what lies behind them can be mostambiguous? I can explain -'

He held up a hand, but it was the curl of his lip and the utter loathing in

the tawny eyes that stopped her. 'Spare me the explanations. With a

staff the size of ours, I'm hardly likely to be so gullible I could credit

any other meaning than the obvious one. I thought it was rather out of

character for my grandfather to consider bringing anyone out from


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England and more or less creating a position for her, and absolutely

laying it on with a trowel in the matter of conditions.

'He not only impressed it on me, when I turned up in Southampton so

unexpectedly, that you were to have a really choice flat, but he

underlined it in the letter which followed me back to New Zealand.The pantry was to be well stocked, the showroom buyer asked to make

you feel at home, one of the firm's cars to be put at your disposal . ..

mention of you being allowed off as soon as possible to visit your

parents in Dunedin.' A thought struck him. 'Great Caesar! ... Your

father is a minister ... he said so. I'd never have taken you for a

daughter of the manse. However, isn't there an old saying that

cobblers' wives go barefoot and doctors' wives die young? Well,maybe ministers' daughters are no better than -'

'Be quiet!' she hissed at him. 'Don't finish that sentence. If you do, this

entire airport is going to be treated to the spectacle of one of theirleading businessmen having his face slapped!'

'Whew! A virago too. Well, well, Grandfather always, did like the

spirited fillies. We had a very temperamental girl in the showroom

once, but he vowed her enthusiasms more than made up for the

flare-ups. So it all adds up.'

She was cool again. 'You've never heard of adders-up who get five

from two-and-two? Well, when you finally realise how far off beamyou are, perhaps you'll have the grace to apologise. If I had a

grandfather as fine as yours I wouldn't believe about him what you're

believing. Furthermore, he's a very rugged character. I shouldn't like tobe you if he gets to know about this.'

Still the derisive curl to his lip. 'Oh ... going to go running to him with

the whole sad tale as soon as he gets back from Europe, are you? Ishan't lose any sleep over that. My grandfather doesn't rule my life.'


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'I'm certainly not telling any tales, but I can't imagine anyone as brash

and ... and rude as you are not twitting his grandfather with thesituation as you imagine.'

He shrugged. 'It's hardly my business if the old man likes to make a

complete idiot of himself, that is unless he gets carried away and itlooks like affecting the family. My sister and brother, for instance, and

their families.'

'How on earth could it possibly aff- -'

He tapped a foot impatiently. 'Oh, come, don't be so naive. I meant

money-wise, of course.'

Her eyes widened, then she caught on. She said, 'I don't wonder some

of your employees are temperamental, Mr Matthieu! I've been in

contact with you less than ten minutes and I'm sure I've had so many

surges of blood sugar in that time, I could easily die of a stroke!

Money, except for discussing salary, hasn't been mentioned between

your grandfather and myself. It was a kindly thought on his part to

offer a staff car to go down to see my parents soon, but I sold my own

car in Southampton, and will buy a secondhand one here as soon as

possible. And, though you probably won't believe it, I'm paying my

own fare out. He paid it meantime, while I was away on holiday. I feel

freer that way.

If I don't like it here ... and judging by the last ten minutes I probably

won't, I won't feel bound to stay. My employer in England said come

back in six months if I can't settle. The only thing Mr MacQueen paid

for, and I couldn't stop him doing that, was to arrange rather luxurious

stop-overs for me.' She paused, added, 'I can't, nevertheless, afford

what would be a satisfying gesture, and tell you to keep the job.

Besides, it would hurt your grandfather, and he's been hurt enough inhis lifetime.'


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The moment those last words left her lips she wished them unsaid. He

seized on them. 'Hurt enough? What do you mean? What hard-luck

story has he been telling you?' His hand came up, rumpled his tawny

hair in a confused gesture, as he said, 'I hope he's not going off his

rocker. You hear of such things ... people have tiny strokes that have

no outward sign, but their personality changes ... they forget things,and have delusions. That must be it.'

'It's nothing of the kind. Sometimes it's easier to tell a stranger of some

heartbreak, rather than family. And you're so disbelieving I imagine

he'd be most reluctant to confide in you. Now, what do we do? Can

you take me straight to this flat? After this encounter we don't want tosee any more of each other than we have to in business hours.'

'I would love to do just that, Miss Briarley, but our showroom buyer

has gone to an immense amount of trouble to give you a dinner in her

own home so you feel welcome to New Zealand and I shouldn't like to

disappoint her. Neither do I want any hint ofof irregularity on my

grandfather's partto get about. A firm the size of ours can be ahotbed of gossip. For my grandfather's own sake I hope this is atemporary aberration, soon to die a natural death.'

Rosamond couldn't help it. She said in a mock- admiring tone, 'My,

my, what big words you use! Then lead me to this shining light amonghostesses. And don't worry, I shall be the soul of discretion.'

'I can see you've had lots of practice at it,' he said suavely. 'Your

luggage should be through. This way, please.' He sounded exactly like

a shopwalker.

Impossible to believe this was the beginning of March. Canterbury

was in the grip of one of her famous nor'westers, a hot dry wind that

came across the plains after having dropped its moisture content on the

Southern Alps, ravaging paddocks and gardens alike with gusts of gale


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force, and pushing the clouds high so that a clear sky arched over the

distant mountains.

It was a bright and beautiful city, laid out with Roman precision on the

spreading square miles, and bounded on the south with immense hills

of volcanic origin. Eight miles away lay the sea she had seen as theyflew in, the Pacific, and south of the hills, she supposed, would be

Dunedin and her parents. At the thought her heart lifted a little.

The man beside her wasn't interested in pointing out places of interest

to a newcomer, he was too filled with rage and resentment, and it

would be a long time before he would be in the mood to listen to her

explanation. The discipline that had stood Rosamond in good steadwhen Jeffrey had first gone away came to her aid and she switched offthe tide of dismay that was threatening to overwhelm her.

She said, 'Would you put me in the picture as regards this meeting with

the showroom buyer? I appreciate her efforts and it would help to

know a little about her. Is she a dedicated career woman?'

'She's a dedicated wife and mother. She worked for the firm in her

single days, then when her husband was injured at his work, she came

back to us. A series of operations put him right and she says she's had

the best of both worlds, a home and a career. She's training in her

second-in-command for when she retires. She thinks the world of my

grandfather even though she worked for him in his more autocraticdays.'

Rosamond said crisply, 'I suppose one needs a bit of steel to get to the

top in the rag trade.'

'Perhaps. He drove himself too hard, though, became rather ruthless.

Maybe it's the swing of the pendulum now ... softening up in his oldage.' The sneer was unmistakable.


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Rosamond said, 'I'd rather not discuss your grandfather. We quite

evidently see two different people. You've probably been too close tohim to see him in true perspective. I saw something very different.'

'On your weekend. On one weekend. That entitles you to dismiss what

we know of him through a lifetime. But I agree, it's not for you todiscuss him with me.'

She felt her hands clench. They passed a gentle river, the Avon,

green-banked and sweet with trees, came into a long road that seemed

to lead right to the Cashmere Hills, Colombo Street, but turned to the

left and skirted the hills as they reached them, wound round another

small river, the Heathcote, pronounced, he told her, as she commentedon the name, Hethcutt, then took a steep road up Huntsbury Hill wherethe Berridges lived.

What glorious gardens, splashed with geraniums as vivid as any in

Switzerland, where roses bloomed profusely, and rock-plants tumbled

over volcanic rocks set in the undulating ground by the hand of nature,with gardens landscaped round them.

Matthieu MacQueen swung into a drive, went slightly downhill, and

stopped the car outside a huge double garage that seemed to cantilever

out into space over a gully below, where a tussocky hillside swept

down to the plains. They stepped out into a surprising stillness.

Rosamond said, 'Why, it's not blowing up here.'

Matthieu said, 'That's a feature of nor'westers. It suddenly, usually in

the evening, dies.'

Rosamond was prepared for suave elegance and a cool cordiality, but

footsteps were heard running downhill as they turned, and an

auburn-haired woman and a teenager, obviously her daughter, almosterupted round the bend of the tree-bordered path.


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Thelma Berridge held out both hands, squeezed Rosamond's, said,

'Welcome to this side of the world, my dear, we hope you'll be very

happy with us. This is my daughter Barbara, who is in our hairdressing

department. Mr Matthieu, John's in his workshop, doing weird and

wonderful things with a gadget for the tailoring section. He's dying to

explain it to youmakes him feel like Edison or Marconi. That'll giveus a chance to get to know Rosamond.'

Some of the alarm and dismay slipped away from Rosamond.

Matthieu disappeared and Thelma took her up a path of hill-stones to a

terraced lawn, with a view that almost took her breath away. Across

the gigantic chequerboard of the pastoral and agricultural plains to the

west reared the classical beauty of a vast range of mountains, with that

unusual sky of pale green swept clear of cloud by the wind, still busy

over there, funnelling up from the cleft valleys where the snow-fed

rivers had their sources.

To the east, over the bright patchwork of multicoloured roofs and

gardens of the suburbs, lay a sand- fringed shore, a glorious place forsurfing, Barbara said, but where it ended against the hills of the

Peninsula, an estuary where the Avon and the Heathcote met, the

waters spread out like rippled pewter among dark pines. The

surf-shore curved north in the full sweep of the gigantic Pegasus Bay,

that was more like a Bight, till it lost itself beyond the silver-glinting

rivers, against more mountains, the Seaward Kaikouras, that ran right

down to the sea.

Thelma said, 'And Dunedin is thataway,' swinging her round to face

south. 'That green belt beyond the city is Hagley Park and the Main

South Road leads through there, and about two hundred and

twenty-two miles away is Dunedin. You're to take a long weekend off

soon, to seie your parents. Either take one of the cars, if you want tosee the countryside, or if you want longer at home, you can fly. What's

more, your parents are ringing you here at seven-thirty tonight. I've


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already spoken to them on the phone about it. That was more of Mr

MacQueen's arranging. He wrote me at length.'

Rosamond was starry-eyed at the thought, then she was jolted back to

apprehension by the knowledge that this would only underline for

Gaspard's grandson that she was out to feather her nest and waspossibly a threat to the happiness and financial welfare of the family.

What made it worse was that she had a niggling suspicion old Gaspard

was so carried away by meeting this replica of his true love that he just

might want to mention her in his will. If he ever hinted at such a thing,she would have to refuse point-blank.

John and Matthieu appeared. John excused himself from shakinghands because they were oily, but was just as cordial as his wife. 'We

love someone new to point out the view to ... it's a form of selfishness.

I feel it has everything ... fertile plains, mountains, sea-shore, estuary,a lovely city spread out before us ... nothing more to be desired.'

'Except a lake,' said Matthieu, grinning. 'Horrible of me to point thatout ... and I admit that our lake district lacks the salt sea.'

John grinned, 'He was born in Central Otago, a true Scots background... a dyed-in-the-wool Otago-ite.'

Rosamond wasn't interested. 'Tell me, over there ... around that

estuary, are there boating harbours? Is much boating done?'

'Yes, a lot, and at Redcliffs, and over the Port Hills at Lyttelton

Harbour with its many bays. Why, are you keen?'

'Yes, I like messing about with boats. I've lived so long in

Southampton, and made friends with people who were mad on boats ...

launches, not sail ... I've been .on the water a lot.'


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Barbara grinned. 'Oho, you're going to be most popular with the rest of

the family. My brothers, Mark and Jerry, have a launch at Charteris

Bay on the harbourwell, at a small bay near there. We have a

weekender of our own. You'll be able to spend weekends with us. And

Rosamond ... I can call you that, can't I? .. . I'd love to set your hair for

you this weekend. What say I pick you up tomorrow evening at yourflat and bring you round here and style it for you? I've all the gadgets.

You'll want to make a good impression on the staff on Monday ...

they're expecting something ... a dream-show compere brought all the

way from the U.K. So, even if you've met the big boss already, I'msure -'

Matthieu cut in. 'Maybe you feel as a hairdresser, Babs, that you can

certainly improve on nature, but I must assure you no one could have

made a bigger impression on me than Miss Briarley did at our very

first meeting, hair-do or not.'

His eye flickered in Rosamond's direction and he laughed, and only

she knew the innuendo behind the apparently complimentary words.

Rosamond kept her colour , down and laughed too and said, 'Thank

you, Barbaraat the end of a fairly long flight, anyone would be glad

of some grooming. I was too intent on seeing all there was to be seen in

Hawaii to hunt for a hairdresser. I feel overwhelmed with all this

kindness ... I insisted on paying my own fare out, but with Gaspard

arranging the lovely stopovers, and this promise of a weekend to seemy parents, I feel as if I've suddenly acquired a fairy godfather.' She

looked straight at Matthieu. She'd used his grandfather's given name

deliberately. Any over-formality and this man would call it hypocrisy.

He'd heard her call his grandfather Gaspard in Southampton.

Thelma nodded. 'That's just what he was to us when John's health

caused us concern for a few years. I proved myself first, I know. I

worked very hard to bring the showroom up to top sales, but I came to

feel secure and hopeful because of Matthieu's grandfather. So I


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imagine this wasn't just an impulsive gesture on his part, he must have

been really impressed with your ability. He wrote me in some detail

about it. I'm tremendously thrilled we can stage an autumn showing

early next month, if you can run it on the same sort of lines as the

spring one in Southampton. Gaspard mentioned your choice of local

names for the models. Do you think you could contrive something asindividual for us?'

They couldn't miss the light of inspiration that flashed into the brown

eyes. Rosamond waved a hand that took in hills and mountains, sea

and shore, said, 'This is already happening. As a matter of fact I dashed

up to London to New Zealand House before I left, and got all the

brochures I could on Christchurchand of the whole of

Canterburyand I worked some out on the long haul here, thousands

of feet above the clouds. This is an inspiring setting. I'll need to get

some extra local information from you, though, Mrs Berridge.'

It was a comfortable type family home, well kept without being

over-tidy, with endearing evidences of the children's hobbies scatteredabout, and books everywhere. Had it not been for Matthieu and his

distrust and dislike of her, Rosamond could have been supremely

happy on this her first day within the New Zealand shores.

Just as dinner was ready, the boys came in, in disreputable jeans, each

carrying a string of fish. Mark was a little older than Barbara, Jerry

younger and a seventh-former. He was naively outspoken. 'Say, you'rereally something, Miss Briarley! I'd had an idea that having reached

the top with fashion shows you'd be almost in the sere and yellow, you

know . .. very sophisticated and made up to hide the wrinkles, but

tough. But you don't look much older than some of Mark's girl-friends,

so I don't have to be scared of you. I tried to dodge being home tonight,

but Mum wasn't having any of that. And Babs has just told me you likemessing about with boats. That's neat. How about coming out with usnext weekend?'


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They all chuckled at his nerve, but Matthieu said, 'Poor show, Jerry,

but my ancient grandfather stonkered that. He's just as bowled over as

you, and he's jacked it up with your mother that she's to take off to seeher parents in Dunedin next weekend.'

Rosamond didn't look at him. He wasn't missing any chances ofgetting digs in. She turned to John Berridge. 'It's wonderful to my

mother and myself that Dad is in full health and strength after years in

a wheelchair. Surgery and treatment did wonders for him. You'll

realise what it means to him, seeing you had a similar experience. It'sbeen worth everything we had to do to have him in parish work again.'

John nodded. 'It went against the grain with me at first, to see Thelmahaving to work so hard, disguising from me that she hated not being

home when the children came from school, but she made it to the top,

and now, somehow or other, we wouldn't have been without that

experience. We enjoy everything we can do together now, all the morebecause once we couldn't.'

Rosamond nodded. 'It works that way. At first, with us, it turned

everything upside down. I just couldn't go on studying. I wasn't far

enough through, and simply had to be earning, and hadn't trained for

anything else. My brother had just taken on a big engineering job in

Canada, a marvellous chance for him. There was nothing comparable

that he could get in England, so he had to take it, but always helped

with money. Greg's a grand chap. I had a knack with words so Ibecame an advertising clerk. Between Greg's money and mine, itmeant Mother could stay home to look after Dad.'

Thelma looked at her shrewdly. 'And at first you'd hate it, then you'dfind, to your surprise, that you were enjoying it.'

'Yes, but how did you guess?'


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'The way your eyes lit up when you spoke about the inspiration the

Canterbury scenery was going to be to you for our show.'

Rosamond caught a fleeting look of surprise on Matthieu's face. She

could have laughed ... he values Thelma's opinion and it's taken him

aback to think that I'm good at my job, that it isn't just for personalreasons his grandfather brought me here, she thought:

'I did hate it at first. It was stupid, but I had to switch from writing

poetry and essays what-have-you, using words in their finest sense, to

use them to describe merchandise in which I was scarcely interested at

all. I was horribly snooty about it, inwardly. Thenwell, I suddenly

got over it.'

Thelma looked at her. 'Anything specific change you? Or do you mean

you suddenly became aware you were enjoying it?'

Rosamond's eyes went reflective. 'I can pinpoint it. I'd done an ad

about clothes for special occasions, how they can subtly change one,

not just in looks but in confidence. I happened to be in the showroom

when this woman came in, who had the clipping of the ad in her hand,

so I lingered near. She got a very nice girl on the staff to serve her,

someone genuinely interested in people. The woman confided in her,

"I'm to be the mother of the bridegroom at a very fashionable wedding

and I'm out of my element. I've a flower farm in Cornwall and out in

all weathers. Not much time to titivate myself, look after my hands,my hair." Then she told us they'd managed to put their son through

medical school and he was marrying a gorgeous girl but her people

were socially above them, though "They don't patronise us, so for their

sake, and my son's, I'd like to do them proud on the big day, and this admade me feel I could. Would you help me?"

'We did enjoy ourselves! We kitted her out from foundation garments

out, got our beauty counter to work wonders with make-up that didn't

take anything away from her personality, and the way she blossomed


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was like a performance ofMy Fair Lady. She was sweet, gave us a

lovely coloured photo of the wedding, and some wedding-cake. From

that moment I stopped resenting my change of training. I was still

dealing with people, but with their material needs instead of the minds

of students, whom I'd hoped to teach, eventually.'

John nodded. 'Yes, I found out that too ... that liking what you do is far

more important than doing what you like.' He chuckled. 'How I

despised the basket-making and carving which was all I could do for a

bit! I'd always worked with steel, in big industry. Some more mutton,Rosamond?'

'No, thank you, that was delicious, especially with those broad beanswith the tangy sauce ... was it lemon juice in white sauce? It was. But

that tamarillo trifle looks so tempting, I'm leaving space for it. They

look like a cross between blackberry and mulberry.'

Barbara glowed. 'I made that. We used to call tamarillos tree-tomatoes,

but they're a citrus fruit, egg- shaped and sized, and strangers thoughtbecause of their name that they must be savoury. Sales pepped up

immediately they changed the name. You just cut them in half

lengthwise, stew them very gently with sugar, slip the skins off, pulp

them, and put them over sponge and pour the custard on. So easy.'

Despite all the kindness, and the feeling of kinship with this family,

the long air journey began to tell on Rosamond, but the phone callfrom her parents revived her. They were using two phones so theywouldn't miss a word.

They assumed that everything about this new position was beyond

belief. 'Imagine,' said her mother, 'your new boss arranging luxury

stop-overs for you so you're not too fatigued. And the buyer who's

entertaining you sounds such a darling. And we'll see you soon. By the

way, guess what? We've had a letter from Greg and he's been put on

the short list as a technical adviser in certain engineering projects in


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this country. Something to do with hydro-electrical schemes.

Wonderful, if he got it.'

The entire company, with the exception of Matthieu, she supposed,

shared her pleasure in this bit of news. Thelma noticed her colour

suddenly ebb. She leaned forward, put her hand on Rosamond's as itlay on her lap, said, 'My dear, I think jet-lag has caught up with you.

We've enjoyed having you, but we're being selfish. Matthieu and I will

take you to your flat now. You'll be glad to get to what you'll soon

regard as your own home. Everyone relaxes more in their very ownplace. Oh, bother, don't tell me we're about to have visitors!'

They were, and some the Berridges hadn't seen for years, so Thelmasaid, 'Never mind, Matthieu knows where everything is. He'll see you

installed. No, Babs, you'll stay talking till all hours if I let you go. So

would I, for that matter, and I don't think Matthieu would stay as long.'

As they drove away Rosamond said, 'That's for sure, anyway.'

He said stiffly, 'What's for sure? You've lost me.'

'Thelma's remark before the goodbyes were said. That you wouldn't

stay as long as she would, Mr MacQueen.'

'Yes, it's for sure. I've certainly no desire to linger.'

'That makes for two of us.' She sighed and added, 'It's hard to believe

you're Gaspard MacQueen's grandson. He's so kindly, so tolerant.'

His laugh was unpleasant. 'That's not always been his reputation.'

She said fiercely, 'And he's the first to admit that, but it's been

otherwise for many years now.'

'What do you mean? How could you know my grandfather mellowed alot?'


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'He told me ... and anyway, you referred to it yourself.'

- 'He told you? When? I mean how did it arise?'

She said deliberately, 'He told me that weekend we spent on the Isle of

Wight. We paused on the walk round the wall of Carisbrooke Castlewhere Charles the First must so often have stood, and he told me then.'

'Told you what?' He sounded intensely irritated.

'Told me he'd been well on the way to becoming a tyrant in the world

of business. That he'd looked on pitting his wits against the struggle to

the top as so much compensation. Then everything changed for him.'

His silence held astonishment, unbelief. Then, 'Good heavens, I'd

looked on my grandfather as very reticent ... with strangers.'

Her voice was cool. 'Perhaps you have it wrong. He could be reticent

with his own flesh and blood, but not with strangers. I didn't find him

that way at all. We established an instant rapport.'

His voice, in turn, was dry. 'I notice you're good at that. The whole fiveBerridges fell for you in a big way.'

'That sounds insulting, Mr-MacQueen ... intentionally so. As if I'm all

things to all people. It was perfectly natural. They're appreciative of

their surroundings, their view. I shared their enthusiasm. The boys are

used to handling boats, so am I, and John Berridge has experienced

much the sort of crisis in his life that my father did. Naturally weclicked.'

He did not answer her, and she knew a small satisfaction.

Then, 'Your flat is in Park Terrace. They're older Colonial houses

there, built by the rich of the day. It's impossible to manage now

without domestic help. So many have been divided, quite charmingly,


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into flats. Nothing but the best for you, Grandfather said. It goes with

the job.'

Rosamond felt dismayed. 'Mr MacQueen, I'll take it for a start as I

need my own rooftree immediately. But as I've no intention of taking

any more than any other employee does, in a little while I shall belooking for my own accommodation at a price I can pay. This is

ridiculous, though it was nothing but kindness on your grandfather's

part.'

'That sounds admirably independent, but it's nothing to do with me. It's

entirely between you and Grandfather. He said it wasn't to be too far

from his house. It's within walking distance.'

The inference was insulting and was meant to be. It was no use

protesting her innocence to this unbelieving hunk of male. He'd

inherited that granite from his grandfather, she suspected, without any

of the old man's saving grace. Gaspard had said all the MacQueen men

had a hard streak in them.

She didn't think it was any use telling Matthieu that anything Gaspard

did for her, he was doing for her own grandmother, for the long-ago

lost love of his youth. In any case, Gaspard might not want that known

to his grandson. And especially would he want kept secret the fact that

Matthieu's grandmotherwhose blood ran in his veinshad been

capable of such treachery.

They wound round the banks of the Avon and came to a wide street

bordered on one side by the river, on the other with large, mostly

wooden houses, opulent and gracious.

'It's a front flat, a ground floor one, with quite a choice garden in front

kept by a gardener, unless you have a flair in that direction.' Matthieu'stone, she felt, doubted anything so wholesome.


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'I have,' she Informed him. 'We always had manses with gardens. I'll

soon pick up the opposite season technique.'

He fitted the key in the lock, went ahead of her, turned on the lights. It

was delightful and far beyond her means, she knew, even if Gaspard

had offered her a very generous salary.

The furniture must have been retained from the day when this had

belonged to wealthy people. The lounge was all in greys and blues and

hydrangea purples and pinks, with elegant tables and lampshades

scattered through. An exquisite corner cabinet held choice china, and a

davenport fair invited one to write letters. Off it was an alcove study,

equipped with a sensibly sized work-desk, stationery, notebooks,fashion magazines, a swivel chair, some filing cabinets. They were

obviously new, bought with her needs in mind. The kitchen was the

last word in labour-saving devices and charm of decor. There weretwo bedrooms, a single and a double.

Rosamond put her bag down on the single bed, removed her cinnamontravelling coat and hung it in that wardrobe.

'In this room?' Matthieu asked, and she was sure his tone held surprise.

'Yes, of course. The other will be a spare. Between Sundays, on a more

quiet week, perhaps, if ever there's such a thing in manse life, my

parents will spend time here. I'm not likely to want to make a doublebed every morning, when there's a single one.'

She told herself not to be so sensitive. He might not have meant

anything. He was most punctilious, showed her a jar full of milk

tokens, for the days to come, opened well-stocked cupboards, the

refrigerator, pointed out that the small deep-freeze unit above it was

stocked with interesting-looking packages.


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'Those were not provided by the firm. The Berridges enjoyed filling

that. The frozen vegetables and berries are from their own store, and

home-grown. They also filled your cake-tins. I'll bring your luggage innow.'

'I'll bring some.' He did not demur. He said, as she went to lift one,'Leave that to me, it's a ton weight. Oh, well, one doesn't expect a

fashion expert to travel light.'

'No,' she said drily, 'it's full of catalogues and brochures ... they weigh

more heavily than mere clothes. How fortunate that Mrs Berridge

doesn't mind that your autumn showing is a little later than usual. She

says that in Christchurch summer lingers on and that though it'straditional to have an early showing, she's glad of an opportunity to

have it later this year ... she's always thought buying would be keener

if the show came after March the seventh when evidently the big

income tax payment of the year is made here. That it takes a nip in the

air to njake people discard their lighter clothing and begin to think

about woollen suits and fur edgings.

'Nevertheless, I'm going to have to work hard and fast. Mrs. Berridge

said that when I go down to see my people first, I could make it a long

weekend, having Monday off, but I won't be doing that, I couldn't

spare the time. Shops aren't open on Saturdays here, so I'll take a lateflight Friday and come back Sunday night.'

She asked him to leave the cases in the lounge. 'More room for

unpacking. Then you can go. I won't offer you anything despite that

well-stocked larder, Mr MacQueen. We agreed that for sure you

wouldn't want to linger. If I turn hospitable you'll be justified inthinking I'm trying to create a more favourable impression.'

'Fair enough.' He was quite uncaring. 'Goodnight, Miss Briarley. I'll

pick you up at twenty to nine Monday morning. By night you should

have this staff car my grandfather specified.'


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'No, don't call for me. I took particular notice on the way in that I'm not

far from the centre of the city. I'll be exploring tomorrow and will

familiarise myself with the most direct route to the store. And I won't

be having the staff car, thank you. That could cause talk and jealousy

among the staff. I like to be just one of the herd, with no special

privileges. I also like my independence. Till now I've always had it,and only an old man's generosity and sentiment has placed me in thisposition. Goodnight, Mr MacQueen.'

She felt she had had a very satisfying last word but, his hand on the

door-handle, Matthieu turned, his mouth twitched in a way she

resented and he said, 'You know, a speech like that is far more likely to

create a good impression than if you hadoffered me some hospitality.

You're really very clever, and you have an undoubted gift with words

... not only in catalogues!' and he was gone, leaving Rosamond gritting

her teeth.


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CHAPTERTHREE

ROSAMOND slept the clock round, exhausted not so much by the air

travel as by the devastating meeting with Gaspard's grandson. He must

have turned up in Southampton unexpectedlyhad the old man

known he was coming, he would have told her, suggested a meetingwith him, as one of the management. In fact, he would probably not

have gone across to the Isle of Wight then had he known he was

coming. It had been unfortunate timing.

Once she had showered and had breakfast she felt a giant refreshed,

and couldn't help revelling in the luxuriousness of the setting. The

sound of cathedral bells made her whisk round to make her bed, putaway some things she'd not bothered to unpack the night before, and

decide to go to a service. There was no time to enquire where the

nearest Presbyterian church was, but she'd been brought up to be

ecumenically minded and in a city like this with a definite centre to it,most roads led to Cathedral Square.

How beautiful it was! She learned later that the spire was a miniature

replica of Salisbury Cathedral's. How magnificent of pioneers, living

in makeshift homes and on windswept plains, to have a dream already

in their hearts that an edifice of worship as beautiful as this should rise

some day. So said the brochure she picked up in the vestibule. The

singing was harmonious, the atmosphere all she could have wished,

the sermon short and compelling. Her nerves stopped jangling. It wasstupid even to feel so, but to come so far, so happily, and to meet with

such enmity and misunderstanding from the acting head of the firm

had half paralysed her. All would be well when Gaspard came back in

a few weeks' time. Matthieu would come to realise that the old man

merely looked on her as someone two generations removed who had

been kind enough to take an old draper from New Zealand to seewhere his mother had lived.


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She spent the entire afternoon working on the ideas she'd jotted down

on the plane, from the brochures she had had from New Zealand

House, and her first tentative phrases had been quite apt. Some of the

booklets had shown the autumn russets and golds of Canterbury,

fortunately, because from her parents' letters, as they had naturally

written of the differences rather than the similarities, she had thoughtof all the trees here as evergreen.

The New Zealand climate had been so kind to the saplings the pioneers

had brought with them, and they had adapted admirably to a change of

season, so that the magnificent trees of Hagley Park, so near to her flat,

looked as if they'd stood for hundreds of years, instead of just over onecentury.

She wrote down 'Avon green teamed with oak scarlet,' and 'Cashmere

tussock gold,' remembering the tussocks on the lower slopes beneath

the Berridge home. 'Cathedral elegance' could be worked in .. . ideas

swam into her mind, stimulated by new scenes. She typed them on her

portable, stowed them in a folder, felt ready to meet the new job.

However, she still had butterflies in her stomach as she walked along

the riverbank next morning, checking her directions by the names of

the streets that ran from the banks, and were named after Englishbishoprics ... Gloucester ... Worcester ... Hereford and so on.

The architecture of MacQueen's had an elegant solidarity with Ionicpillars at the main entrance and some of the facings were of the

exquisitely mottled Takaka marble. Rosamond had examined Jthe

windows when out walking yesterday afternoon and had seen that the

merchandise ranged from the exclusive to the everyday utility lines,

catering for a wide section of the public. Thelma was waiting, smiling,

at the staff entrance.

'I expect you feel a little nervous, one always does on a first day till

routine establishes itself and things become known and familiar. It


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would have been nicer for you had Mr MacQueen senior been here,

seeing he'd engaged you.'

How true, thought Rosamond hollowly.

Thelma went on: 'Pity you'd not met Mr Matlhieu when he was overthere ... I think he said he'd just missed you, that you'd gone onholiday.'

'Yes, I started my holiday by taking Mr MacQueen round the Isle of

Wight, then went up to Yorkshire to some cousins. The night of the

fashion show I was invited by my boss to his place so I could chat with

Mr MacQueen about New Zealand where my parents were. When Iknew his mother had come from the Isle of Wight, I offered to take

him with me in my car. The job offer all sprang from that.'

She didn't think Thelma was likely to discuss this with Matthieu, but in

case it ever cropped up, it would be good for him to know she'd made

no secret of that weekend. Other staff members joined them, were

made known to Rosamond. She was relieved to find she wouldn't be

facing resentment because a new position had been created, which

virtually placed her in the top position in the advertising section,

because the head of the department was getting married at Easter and

as her fiance was a farmer away up in North Canterbury, she couldn't

keep her job on.

Monica seemed a happy-go-lucky person, ready to show Rosamond all

the files, chat over the differences she was likely to find.

'Easter, of course, is a great time for weddings, and it's late this year,

well on in April. But whereas in Britain guests would appear in new

spring suits, it's autumn ones here. But being already over your autumn

in Britain, you'll know the new trends, and also what took and whatdidn't. It gives you a head start.'


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She was thrilled with the ideas Rosamond had already sketched out. 'I

can see a new country has already had an impact on you. By the way,

I've jacked up a radio interview for you. Not till Thursday, though. It

gives you time to sort things out. I think it's shocking when people are

asked for their impressions of the country when all they've managed to

see is the interior of an airport, and their journey to a hotel. It's not acommercial thing, more on the lines of the fact that we suffer from too

much brain-drain to other countries, but here's someone in the rag

trade actually bringing her expertise here.'

Rosamond laughed. 'How boosting to one's ego! I have a

Lawks-a-mussy-can-this-be-I feeling. I started on the bottom rung of

the advertising ladder, you know, but this could be fun. A newexperience.'

Monica Payne said, 'You'll do us. We were afraid of getting someone

patronising. It would have been a pity, because this has always been a

harmonious department. Pity Mr Pierre's not here. He's a wizard at

advertising. But he's in Boston just now.'

Rosamond said, 'These MacQueens do get around, don't they? I know

Mr Pierre's there because of his wife's operation, but Mr Matthieu

seemed to think nothing of hopping across the world to see hisgrandfather very briefly.'

Monica nodded. 'I'm not breaking any confidences about this becauseit was common knowledge at the time. Someone here in a very good

position was found out in gross dishonesty. It was quite horrible. If

there was to be prosecution it had to be decided at once, so Matthieu

flew off to consult old Gaspard. It was very upsetting. The man

concerned is excellent at his job and had been with the firm for many

years. Between Gaspard and Matthieu they've got a company in

Wellington to give him a chance in a position where he couldn't

defraud. He's demoted, of course. His was a position of responsibility

which always carries a higher salary. But it gave Mr Matthieu a hell of


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a time before and-after his trip. Not a moment of pleasure .in all that

travelling.'

Rosamond felt regret wash over her. Matthieu MacQueen must have

arrived in England feeling very disillusioned about a long-time

employee. He'd found his grandfather, as he thought, philanderingwith someone in her mid-twenties and he'd thought it must be someone

on the make. Then he'd flown back to a tense situation, possibly to a

backlog of other work, then had come face-to-face with a reminder of

an episode he'd deemed no more than a passing folly on the part of his

grandfather, and had dreaded it might deepen into something that

could affect the whole family. She must make allowances for him.

She saw him only twice that week. No doubt he had responsibilities in

every department. She was only one cog in the wheel, but his curt

manner when he had to deal with her made her wonder if he was trying

to impress upon her that she wasn't to expect from him the ridiculousamount of personal interest his grandfather had shown in her.

She had a wonderful weekend with her parents, who were still

wide-eyed with the chance out of the blue that had come to her. Carrie

Briarley said, 'It's like a fairytale, that Christchurch draper seeing you

compere that show and offering you a job here. I hated having you

thirteen thousand miles away.'

Rosamond didn't know why she didn't say, 'But it was mainly because

my name is Rosamond Louise and he loved Dad's mother long ago.'

She was glad she hadn't mentioned it when her father said, 'What do

you think? Mother's coming out here for a long holiday this year. I've

told her to wait till the New Zealand spring and stay on through the

summer. She'll be keener than ever once she knows you're here. Wehad a feeling this might fall through, so we didn't mention it.'


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Rosamond wondered what her grandmother would say when her

parents wrote to say she was working in Christchurch for a firm called

MacQueen's. She didn't think Gaspard was the love of Louise's life.That man had been a farmer, obviously.

The Sunday night plane she was to take back got grounded for somemechanical fault, and she had to ring Thelma to ask her to let Matthieu

know she wouldn't be in till about one on Monday. She preferred that

to ringing him direct. Thelma thought nothing about it. 'Oh, well, you

know the tag: "If you've time to spare, go by air!" It's alwayshappening. Just enjoy the extra time with your people.'

When Rosamond walked in, Matthieu was in the advertising officegoing over something with Monica Payne. She came in unheard,

paused in the doorway, and heard Matthieu say, 'These are excellent,

Monica. I'm not the judge Pierre is, of course, but these have a flash of

sheer inspiration about them. I know how Pierre felt about you leaving

us, he said that you being a writer instead of only an advertising clerk

gave your work an extra fillip, and he wished you were marrying a citychap so we could have retained you, but it looks as if Grandfathermade the right decision after all.'

Monica said, 'What do you mean, Mr Matthieu ... after all? Had youhad doubts?'

He grinned, in a way he'd never grinned at Rosamond, and said, 'Ithought the old boywith all due respect to himhad fallen for a

pretty face ... but I'm quite happy to be proved

62221094 Essie Summers Autumn in April

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Transcript of 62221094 Essie Summers Autumn in April